Posts Tagged ‘avoidance’

I’ve decided that I need to be better about doing different things just for the sake of doing them. I think I’m falling prey too easily to the illusion that I can’t do anything until I’m feeling better, or that a certain activity might not be that enjoyable so I’ll skip it. …Not even in the dramatic depressive way, but just in the everyday sort of way. I’ve been in the clenches of this mentality for a long time, I think. Sometimes it’s just the thought that I’m too tired to [do paperwork, exercise, go out, play a game, raise chickens…whatever] on a particular night, so I should wait for some other night to do that. This is true from time to time, but more often I feel better once I’m living my life more fully. I need to experiment with getting back to that again. Richer activities take a lot more energy, which is daunting these days, but maybe once I’m in the habit it will be easier. Plus, it’s rare that those energized evenings ever actually get there, and I don’t want to be missing out.

Of course, this is really all stuff that I had mastered a full year ago. Sometimes I re-have a particular epiphany several times before it actually starts to sink in for good.

So yes, working towards doing stuff even if I don’t feel up to it, and doing things just to see what happens rather than needing to wait for something reliably good.

It’s a fine line for me, because I have to pay close attention to the difference between deliberately choosing not to do anything because that would be nice for me in that moment versus not doing anything for the reasons listed above. I’m not so good at that whole “balance” thing, so there’s always the danger of pushing myself beyond the point that it’s good for me and into the point where a bagpipe lesson in carnivorous plants would be more pleasant. I am not, in fact, a robot, and even if I was I probably couldn’t go at full steam all the time. I’m sure even the Terminator was lounging on the couch in some of the scenes they didn’t show. Between blowing up that thing, and killing that guy? Yeah. Totally watching TV.

And just because I’m on the topic of rediscovery, I came across this picture of our boy yesterday and have to share it. Is that not the cutest damn thing you’ve ever seen? He is the indeed the master of trying things for the experience without worrying about how they’ll turn out.

I’m a big in-head conversationalist. I’m sure that I could solve the world’s problems if someone just gave me an hour or two of long car ride and potentially a can of coke (which is good, because as previously mentioned, I am maybe kind of probably responsible for them). Mostly right now I focus on the great global travesty of how to convince my psychiatrist that I don’t want another SSRI to try just yet, but you know, I could branch out. If I wanted to.

Sometimes now just after I finish writing here, everything that happens in my life gets mentally blogged instead. And let me tell you, that blog would be defectively fascinating. Like a puppy with two heads, or a scab that looks sort of like a major political figure, or one of those cat hairs that manages to weave its way through my clothes. Plus, two times more ninjas than I write about here.

I’ve ended up on sort of a de facto schedule lately. Not the type of schedule that my therapists have gently encouraged me towards (or away from, depending on which side of “all or nothing” I happen to be falling on that week), but it is meshing into something consistent enough that I find myself starting to work around it. I can’t do that then. That’s when I wander back and forth jittering. …Duh.

This morning I am putting my newfound self-enlightenment to work, and experimenting with forcing myself to sit down here and write before the morning coffee has worn off, and the Ritalin starts to take its mid-afternoon downturn. I think perhaps that I am suffering some of that “ego-centric” side effect loveliness that they mention in relation to things like this that mess with dopamine. Largely because the times like this that I have the energy to accomplish things like “paperwork” and such, it seems like a solidly poor idea. I will not debase myself with these “insurance forms you speak of!” …Then by around 4pm I’m crashed out on the couch in a pile wondering what the hell I was thinking, and making resolutions that clearly I will take care of it tomorrow.

Yes. Clearly.

So yes, posting here while I have the energy. On the plus side, it means less mopey-frowny deep analysis of my life and goals and inner workings. Down side, none of this makes any sense. …But more ninjas.

I feel SO much better having faced down the stresses, felt the emotions fully, and taken an evening off. I need to remember more often how much that helps, whether or not I feel like it at the time. It’s easy to get caught up in one thing after another, trying to escape from things rather than taking them on fully so that I can move past them.

Good in theory…much harder in practice. But, they say that it takes many, many repetitions of something you’re not used to before it becomes more natural. I guess I just keep practicing.

Anyway, post-meltdown I stole a little guilty Sims playing time and drank a lot of pop (for whatever reason), and I feel better now. Doing things exclusively for the purpose of being nice to myself now and then feels awfully good too.

I wish sometimes that human beings came with a little view screen that displayed what’s really going on in there.

“Oh – I don’t really want these nachos, I’m just lonely”

Or

“Oh – I’m cleaning this floor so intently to avoid dealing with those incomplete forms on my desk”

Or
”Oh – it’s the Flintstones theme song”

Sometimes I think I know what’s going on in my head, but at other times I’m totally lost. And my head lies. Frequently. And well.

I’ve been feeling lately like I didn’t really have time to write here (or to do much of anything else, really) because I’m trying to get the house in order after our move, and am eager to have things in some vague level of livability. I think that’s part of it, but I also think that I have been MUCH more stressed out about other life events than I’ve fully realized. I wonder if my workaholic nature is often affected this way.

There’s been a lot of financial stress lately on this end. Since the allergic reaction to my meds, the prognosis for my return to work has changed dramatically. The financial situation was not entirely rosy to begin with having just purchased our first house, and the extra costs associated with trying to get me better so far had significantly chewed through any reserves we may have had. So now we’re up to our eyeballs in debt, and weighing significantly any purchase of items for the house. Do we really need a lawn mower? Could we cut each blade by hand? Maybe we could get a goat…

If I can’t go back to work as intended, that will leave me without pay for a period of time before long term disability insurance benefits would kick in. That’s thousands of dollars difference in our income for that time, and still a significant difference after even once the insurance payments start (provided all goes smoothly and I’m quickly approved). Thank goodness that I even have that, is all that I can say. I can’t imagine working through something like this without that safety net. We’d lose our house, our car,…just about everything but each other.

At any rate, as thinly stretched as we are, the extra strain is going to be significant. I think in part I’ve been trying to be strong for my husband. I know that the possibility of my being off work longer stresses him RIGHT THE FUCK OUT. He’s had a couple of mini-meltdowns because of it, and I can’t help but feeling on some level like it’s all my fault. I’ve been trying to be the voice of optimism, and focus externally on how we’ll get through it and everything will be okay. It could be much worse. If nothing else comes up, it will be very survivable.

I just spoke with the Disability Services Manager (or something like that) from my employer, though, and when she told me about another financial hit, I turned into a wet, tearful mess on the phone. I’ve acknowledged that I’ve been putting off filling out the disability forms and making that particular phone call, but I hadn’t quite realized how much the whole thing was still eating at me. I think in my attempts at previous survival, I’ve gotten quite adept at shoving things aside and burying them as quickly as possible. Not so good for the long term benefit.

So I’m going to eat a peanut butter sandwich now (because finances are tight), and sit down for a minute to do something that isn’t work related to try to pull myself together (because finances are tight and that stresses me RIGHT THE FUCK OUT).

In an hour and a half I have to face down the contractor who’s trying to get out of fixing the damage his workers have done to our house and belongings.

Unnecessarily Long Sidebar About What This Site Is All About Which I Should Probably Just Put In The “About” Page Instead and Kind of Makes That Whole Other Page Redundant:

I feel like I should write something vague here so that I don't have to change it in the future when it becomes horribly outdated.

Like, "I have arms. ...And legs. And this blog is a record of them."

Except it isn't. Mostly. Sometimes.

So instead I will say that this started as a chronicle of my journey with depression, went through some pretty awful experiences with antidepressants that brought me very near to suicidal for months, and came out the other side with the diagnosis that I've actually been struggling with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, often called Chronic Fatigue Syndome, and probably didn't need any of that in the first place. I'm just one of the lucky ones who gets profoundly more depressed on antidepressants. Oh, and while I wasn't accurately diagnosed, all that stuff I was doing to push myself actually sped up the progression of the illness like crazy. Yay (I'm really not as bitter as I seem).

Good news, my mood is really quite stable now most of the time.

Bad news, I can no longer wash my own hair, or prepare my own meals, or drive a car, or, you know, stand up for more than a minute. I've now been bed bound since the spring of 2011. But I can get to the bathroom now, and hold my own head up, and occasionally write here, and you have no idea what a victory that's been.

This has generally ended up being a place to keep my sanity, embrace absurdity, stay connected while I can't leave the house, and remind me to look at the amusing side of what's going on around me.

Except when the amusing side is the bum part. Because, really, who wants to look at that?